


Skully, Play Despacito

by ImpossibleClair



Category: Lockwood & Co. - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I got an idea and I ran with it, but hilarious, it's just a stupid fun time, lucy is fed up, skully is annoying, with music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 21:37:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15324873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpossibleClair/pseuds/ImpossibleClair
Summary: Hunting ghosts is all well and good, but what's life without a little music?(based on a tumblr post by legwood)





	Skully, Play Despacito

I know a lot of things about ghosts. 

I can read a spirit but its look, its feel, its actions. If there was a game called "What Visitor Is That?", I’d probably be national champion. 

And yet the skull still managed to surprise me. 

We were on a case the first time it happened. Lockwood and I were sitting in our circle of chains, waiting to see if there really was a ghost dog galloping up and down the Mawson’s hallway late at night. Old Mr Mawson had sworn he’d ‘heard the beast with his own ears!’, and his grandson had told us he’d seen ‘a white, four-legged shape’. In my personal (unpopular) opinion, I thought it was a load of rubbish. But they were willing to pay and Lockwood had never seen a ghost dog before, so we took the job.

We were starting to wish we hadn’t. I’d never been so bored in my entire life. I’d gone through half a novel and sketched on my notepad until all artistic creativity had abandoned me. There were no signs of a Visitor in the house. It wasn’t even cold. 

I wasn’t the only one fed up. The skull had been moodily rolling its plasmic head inside its jar for the past two hours.

_‘Whyyy did you have to bring me on this one?’_ it moaned for the hundredth time. _‘I could’ve been at home making faces at Cubbins. This is my valuable time you’re wasting.’_

‘Oh, stuff it,’ I muttered. ‘Nobody cares.’

Its boggling eyes narrowed, then flickered as its mouth stretched in a wicked grin.

_‘You will, Lucy. Trust me, you will.’_

I ignored it. In hindsight, I probably should’ve turned the tap on the jar to shut it up. The rest of the night would have passed in relative peace. We hit 3am. All was quiet. There was no ghost fog, no miasma, and definitely no lumbering psychic hound. I was about to ask Lockwood how much longer we were going to give this wild goose chase when a cacophony of psychic noise assaulted my eardrums.

_‘HELLO DADDY, HELLO MOM, I’M YOUR CHCHCHCHCHCH CHERRY BOMB! HELLO WORLD-’_

I got such a fright that I nearly booted Lockwood in the backside.

‘SHUT THE FUCK UP OH MY GOD!’ 

I grabbed the skull jar and glared at the face within. It didn’t care. It was hooting, plasm sputtering with the force of its laughter.

_‘Your face!’_

‘I’m going to-’

‘Lucy, what on Earth just happened?!’

While I struggled to find the words, a large white shape went galumphing past us, washing cold air over the iron chains. 

*

We were hemmed in. Everywhere we looked, the pristine lawn was seething with greyish, translucent bodies. Men in scorched and tattered army uniforms fixed hard, dark eyes upon the three of us huddled in the branches of the huge oak tree. We’d had the sense to circle the tree with iron before scurrying up it, but the Visitors still came perilously close. A spectral hand lurched upwards, clawed fingers swooping through a dangling branch, coating it with frost.

‘I have to say, I’m not too fond of these cluster cases,’ Holly said. She sat with her shoulder jammed against mine, squished into the bowl-like hollow we’d found at the base of the taller branches. 

‘Me neither,’ I agreed. ‘But at least we know where the Source is.’

‘Yeah, on the other side of the yard.’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Lockwood will be back soon, he knows where it is.’

_‘Speaking of,’_ murmured a voice from my rucksack. 

I looked up. Yes, there he was, coat swirling as he crept quietly along behind the crowd of spirits. I pointed him out.

‘There he is, Holly.’

‘Thank goodness. We can finally get out of this-’

_‘MYYY MILKSHAKE BRINGS ALL THE BOYS TO THE YARD!’_

I fell out of the tree. It was the least graceful thing I’ve done it a good while, and explaining exactly why I’d done it was possibly even more humiliating. Revenge came in the form of turning the tap on the skull jar and putting it in George’s bedroom for a week.

*

I danced forward, slashing and parrying, my rapier a silver blur. The straw dummy of Floating Joe rocked and swung on his chain, battered by the combined forces of mine and Lockwood’s attacks. 

The sun was shining outside and our spirits were high. Just last night we’d closed a high-profile case, and the newspapers were singing our praises. Even the dark mutterings of the skull couldn’t bring me down today. It sat mumbling to itself on the corner table beside the box of donuts. 

Lockwood sent Joe spinning with a flourished strike, and stepped back, breathing hard.

‘I think that’s enough for me,’ he said. 

‘Yeah.’ I lowered my sword. ‘Tea?’

‘Yes please.’

We returned our rapiers to the rack, and as Lockwood reached past me for a towel, he grinned and gripped my shoulder.

‘Your sword work is gorgeous, Luce. I’d hate to come up against you in a fight.’

I beamed at him, my heart filled and fluttering.

_‘EVERYTIME WE TOUCH, I GET THIS FEELING, AND EVERYTIME WE KISS I-’_

I hurled a donut at the skull jar.

*

I sat in the kitchen, brooding over a cup of tea. ‘Worst night ever’ is a bold statement, but I had to admit, tonight qualified. Lockwood was in the hospital, George with him. I’d been ordered to stay home; Lockwood had insisted he’d be out by the end of the night, and I could see him then. In the meantime, Holly and I were to stay at Portland Row and figure out how to un-fuck the case we’d just so completely fucked up.

Holly was fetching George’s notes from upstairs, leaving me with the skull and my regrets. The skull was oddly quiet. I flicked the silver-glass.

‘What are you thinking about in there? I expected more quips from you.’

The plasm stirred.

_‘Well I didn’t think you’d appreciate my thoughts at this point in time.’_

I shrugged.

‘Maybe not, but it feels wrong without your mockery.’

_‘In that case, I thought the way you flailed about trying to save Lockwood was hilarious. Reminded me of a headless chicken.’_

‘Really.’

_‘Oh yeah, definitely. Don’t get me wrong, it was heroic and romantic and all that, but-’_

‘Romantic?’

The skull rolled its eyes.

_‘Honestly, could you pine any harder? It’s pathetic.’_

‘Hey, now hang on a minute-’

_‘NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP, NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN!’_

I’d never played football, but I could’ve made the national team with the way I booted that jar through the kitchen door. Out in the hall, Holly screamed as it flew past.


End file.
